by Amber Lynn
I take my place riding shotgun, Jonas gets behind the wheel, and Marcus settles in the back.
Time to put my teacher hat on.
Chapter 22
You cannot teach common sense
We pull up outside the building and even though it is a good ten minutes before ten, my new little recruit is waiting for me.
She is looking about fifty percent healed. Her face still has some bruising, but it has changed to that really ugly yellowish, blackish color. Her eyes are no longer swollen and I can see barely harnessed anticipation sparkling in them. It actually scares me just a little.
Her attire leaves something to be desired, in my mind anyway. She is wearing baggy clothes, which are a big no-no in Nyx’s world of self-defense. They work in an opponent’s favor and them and the sandals she is wearing are going to have to be addressed.
“I hope you don’t mind me being early?” she says as I step towards her.
“How long have you been waiting out here? This isn’t exactly the best place for a young girl like you to be standing,” I reply gesturing towards Sins, the sex dungeon, right next door.
“It’s only been a minute or two, I promise. Plus, I figured beat up as I am, I won’t attract any unwanted attention.”
I don’t think I will mention to her that some paranorms, mostly werewolves, like their sex a bit rough and since they heal quickly, they aren’t afraid to leave a lot of bruises, or that her standing here is like a giant billboard advertising that she is a good lay.
“Do you at least have a weapon on you that would detract unwanted attention?” I ask unlocking my door and pushing her inside.
“Well, no. I don’t know anything about them, so I didn’t think it was a good idea if I had something.”
She would probably end up knifing herself, so I guess I will let that go. This is going to be more work than I thought. It can be really difficult to teach common sense.
“Guys, do you mind rearranging the furniture real quick. I think we will just try some holds today, so I don’t need a lot of room,” I instruct the guards. “Oh and thanks.” I add the last bit as they get to the furniture juggling. The big pieces head to my office and the rest are pushed to the side.
I notice that Phee doesn’t seem scared of them. I was afraid she might have issues with them being around, but she appears to be too excited to even notice.
“Okay, Phee, first we need to talk about this ensemble. The loose shirt and sweatpants aren’t doing it for me, and don’t get me started on the shoe choice.”
“Phee. I like it. No one has given me a nickname before. It is so cool,” she replies not even touching on my concerns. People wonder why I don't want my own kids.
“Yes, it is awesome. Now, do you have any comment on the clothing situation?”
“Oh. Well, I don’t work out very often, but when I do this is what I wear. All my other clothes are like jeans and skirts and such. I thought those would be worse.”
Thank God, she didn’t show up in one of those skirts. I would have had to ask the guys to shoot me. She seems like the type of person that actually enjoys wearing those death traps. Some days, I fantasize about finding the inventor of the skirt and playing “hunt the idiot” with them. Trust me, in my imagination it is a really fun game.
“You need to go shopping. After we are done here, I will take you by the store I go to and we will see if we can find you attire that is more appropriate. If you end up training and hanging out with me, I have a feeling we are going to have to make a number of improvements.”
“Wait. Hang out with you? Oh my God, that would be so cool. I cannot wait to tell my friends.” I am guessing she is excited, but to me it looks like she is having an epileptic seizure.
“Hold the phones, just a second. I spend all my hours with guys, so having a female around might prove interesting. I am willing to try it. It is just a trial, though, and you won’t be able to mention it to your friends. I don’t want a bunch of teenagers showing up on my door trying to befriend me. You should know right off, that I suck at being sociable, so you will probably think most of the time I am mad at you. About fifty percent of the time I probably will be,” I tell her trying to get her to calm down. Why I chose to extend this invitation to squealy here, I don’t know, but it is too late to recant.
“Got it. You won’t be sorry. I can keep a secret like no one else. My best friend, Molly, told me five years ago about this crush she has on this guy named Liam and how she watches outside his bedroom window while he sleeps and I haven’t told another soul about it.”
I refrain from pointing out the obvious. Definitely not going to give her the inside scoop on any relationship ideas floating around in my mind. I remove my holster and move to place it on my desk. Probably a good idea to keep her far away from my guns. With all of her excitement, she would shoot everyone in the room, including herself, and I would be the only one waking up from it.
“Good,” I say commenting on her fantastic skill of keeping a secret as long as she isn't telling another person how great she is at keeping them. The guys have our area ready and are holding up the wall by the door waiting for us to get started. Looking at Jonas, I can tell he is trying very hard not to laugh and succeeding remarkably well. “First, before we get into any fighting, I think you should learn how to defend yourself when someone gets you into a hold. Since you are so tiny, getting free and running is probably your best bet.”
“Okay. What do I do?” she asks ready to get down to business.
“You stand right here,” I say positioning her in front of me. I reach my arms under her arms and pull mine up, so my elbows bend around her shoulders. I proceed to lock my hands in place behind her neck putting her in a full nelson.
“Ow. That hurts,” she whines.
“I imagine it does. I am being gentle about it. You can imagine what it would feel like if an attacker was trying to really hurt you.” On a personal level, I am kind of enjoying the fact that I am actually able to put the move on another person. Usually, my stature limits my being able to use any full body holds.
“So, here is what I want you to do. We are going to switch positions now that you have felt and know this hold and I will show you how to get out of it. Then you will try.” I release her and move in front of her.
She doesn’t immediately take her place behind me and I look over to question her resistance.
“Is it going to hurt? Do you have to hit me to get out? Do you think maybe you should show me with one of the guys?” The scared girl I met last night emerges. I figured I would see her eventually.
“I am going to pull up so I don’t actually make contact with you, just show you the basic ideas.”
She nods and takes her place and I turn around. She wraps me up and I wiggle around to show her that she has me locked in.
“First, use a couple of logical moves to see if you cannot get them to loosen up the hold. If your feet aren’t too far from theirs, try to raise your right foot and stomp as hard as you can on their instep,” I instruct while demonstrating the move, but just stomping on the floor. “While they are distracted with that pain, bend either leg back and try for a good old kick to the groin. Chances are, if you connect with most guys, that will drop them pretty quickly.”
She holds on through the demonstration. I expected her to loosen the hold, even though I don’t actually hit her, but it is still strong.
“However, versus a strong paranorm, you just irritated them a whole lot and have nothing to show for your efforts. Now, you need to change speed a little. You will step out wide with your right leg, like this. Then bring your left leg out towards the right and swing it back behind your opponent.
“From here you should have the assailant off balance and you will see there is nothing impeding you from taking your frustrations out on his man bits until you can wiggle free. If you get some more strength in those arms of yours, I don’t imagine it will take long to win that freedom. From there, I suggest running.”
I have worked my way loose of the hold. As soon as I stepped behind, she lost her grip.
“Got it?” I ask. She quickly nods her head. “Then show me.”
I stand behind her and we proceed to run through it a couple times. She doesn’t hold back on her stomping and kicking. She is young so I wasn’t expecting her to. I am going to have to put her on a strength training routine because her not holding back is like a butterfly landing on my skin. Any guys she tries to kick in the balls will think she is tickling them.
Once I feel she has, more or less, mastered that move, we move on to some choke holds. She lacks a lot physically, but she makes up for it with her efforts. If enthusiasm could win her a fight, she would be a champion in the ring.
“I think that is a good start. I am told tomorrow you should be able to come to my gym so we can work on building some muscles. Do you have any weapons training at all? As you may have figured out, hanging around me can be hazardous to your health. I have at least two guards with me at all times, but they are mostly just there to make my mates feel better. I can take on most challenges I am faced with and it is something you are going to have to learn. Hand-to-hand with another paranorm at our size doesn’t usually end well for us. I currently have five blades on me that I am one hundred percent lethal with.”
“I have always been more of a girlie girl, so no I don't have any experience with weapons at all, other than my steak knife.”
“Fine. Why don’t we go get you properly outfitted and we can find some things that will work for you. You have to promise, though, that you will not treat them as toys. Until you get my approval, you will not be using any of the knives we get today outside of my presence.”
“Not even to practice at home?” she asks obviously saddened by the thought. I can just picture her cutting off a finger, so I have to stand firm.
“No. No, practicing without me there,” I assert.
“Yes, master,” she says impertinently. “Let’s go shopping.”
I don’t like that crazy gleam in her eye. Being excited about learning to fight is one thing, but to feel that way about shopping is just wrong.
Chapter 23
Things that piss me off…shopping
I imagine no one would mistake me for a shopaholic. After spending five seconds with me, you would have to be completely daft to even consider the notion. In fact, I really hate to shop.
Why then, you ask, am I currently walking into a clothing store with a bubbly teenager getting ready to outfit her with a new wardrobe?
Because I am a total sap. I don't think that word has ever been used in the same sentence as anything to describe me, but it is true. For some reason, this young girl brings out my older sister instincts. It kind of sucks.
I feel really bad for Jonas and Marcus who have gotten suckered into this whole ordeal. If they weren't so loyal, I bet their resignations would be on their respective master's desk the second we return home.
The only marginally sane thing about this little adventure is that we are not in some frilly dress shop, but my favorite military thrift store, Tango Charlie. It is the only store, other than the butcher, that I will be caught dead in. Usually, though, I just place a phone order and they deliver it.
“Okay, so we will start with clothing first and then move to the weapons,” I instruct Phee.
“Lead the way, oh great one,” she says back cheekily.
Seriously, were we separated at birth or something? If I didn't know I was my father's only child, I would be having a serious talk with him because she has started to pick up on my attitudes and with our similar looks, this may be dangerous. If she turns herself into a fighter more than a little girl, we are in even more trouble
“This way, short stuff,” I reply weaving through the racks of clothing. I have about half an inch on her, so I get to be the giant in our relationship. Totally a first for me.
I find a rack of petite black cargo pants and start pulling out a few pairs of the smallest size.
“But I thought I was getting some of the pants like yours,” Phee says with a pout.
“Sorry, special order only. It might take a couple of days for them to arrive. You can borrow some of mine until then. For now, we can alter these pants to allow for your knife sheaths. You need some more practicing before I say it is okay for you to wear the sheaths, however. If you don't know how to use them properly, they can both injure you and become a liability in a fight.” I try to reiterate that I don’t want her actually using the weapons she gets without my approval.
“Fine,” she exhales. I move her over to the shirts and pick out a few different styles to see what she likes, all in black. “So, you aren't going to add any color at all to these new outfits?”
“Unless I am undercover, I am always in black. Most of the time, I need to become invisible and bright pink doesn't blend well into the background.”
“I guess that makes sense. Can my practice clothes at least have some color to them?”
I don't think the poor girl has any idea what she signed up for. “If you want. Most of the time I wear a tank top and tight yoga style pants. You can wear any color you want, but if you look around this store, you will notice that black or camo is kind of the theme here. You will need to pick up your colors at another store. One, I most likely wouldn't be caught dead in,” I add just in case she thinks this shopping trip will be extended to another store.
“I think you would look great with some color. Nothing too bright, of course, but you know, something different.”
I hear Jonas and Marcus both chuckle from across the room. I am glad my annoyance amuses them. I will have to figure out a way to turn the joke around on them later.
“It isn't like I don't ever wear color. I just don't like to. I have red, purple, and blue shirts in my closet. I also have jeans, I just don't wear any of those more than maybe once a month. I have my own personal style and you have yours. They don't have to mesh, just if you ever go out with me at night on a mission, know now that you will be wearing all black. It is for your safety as well as mine.”
“I guess you are the expert here. I am going to go try these on. I think I need a pair of boots like yours. Do they have those here as well?” she asks while heading towards the fitting room.
“Yes, I will find you a pair. What are you, a size 5?”
“Correct.” she says disappearing behind a door.
I wander over to the shoe section and try to figure out why I thought it would be a good idea to become a mentor. I really don't think I have the patience for this kind of thing.
I know I can teach her to fight that is something I am great at. It is the nurturing part of this relationship that I don't see having a happy ending. For now, I am resigned to do my best to try to not totally screw the kid up.
I grab some boots that are pretty much replicas of mine and head to the cutlery part of the store. I am admiring a black pearl handle Bowie knife. It is too much for Phee to handle, but I think I have the perfect place for it in my armory.
“Oh, that one is pretty,” Phee says as she sets her pile of clothes on the counter. “It's shiny, but all black that is good, right? Can I get it?” She is pointing at the knife I want, which I hope means great minds think alike.
“No, it is too big for you,” I say as I tap twice on the counter to let Paul, my usual sales clerk, know I will be taking it home with me. While he takes care of grabbing it and its box, I lead Phee down to the knives that are better suited for novices and someone as small as her.
“These knives are more your speed. You will need a boot knife, a pair of throwing, and maybe a stiletto. You should be able to find the latter in a black pearl handle like the Bowie. Why don't you pick some out of this case and I will let you know if they are acceptable.”
While she is engrossed with her task, I check out the firepower section. I can never have enough bullets.
“Anything in particular you need tonight, Slaughter?” Paul asks having fo
llowed me over.
“I could use a case of those special 45s I get for the Colt. I am also in the market for a few of those phosphorus grenades you showed me a while back.”
“Of course. Those are both back room items so I will run and get them and then meet you back at the register.”
“Thanks, Paul.” I tell him as he runs off. I have been coming to see Paul for a few years now. He was the first vampire that Sebastian put on his list of vamps approved to share air with me. Since I make a lot of big purchases, even if they are mostly phone orders, I think Paul has always been grateful to be on the list.
I rejoin Phee and see her eyes are twinkling with delight. “Okay, I think I have everything picked out. They didn't have a lot of choices for boot knives, so I picked that one right there,” she says pointing to a suitable knife. I nod my agreement and she continues.
“For the throwers I was hoping I could get two sets. I really like the Technicolor looking ones there, but I know black is all the rage for you, so I also wouldn't mind that set of SOGs.” The colorful ones are “pretty”, but not very practical. Because she also picked a set that were, I let it slide. She can use them on the practice field.
“For the stiletto, I wanted one pretty flat that had a foolproof switch mechanism. I think after looking over all the options this flat black one here is the one for me.” She indicates a sensible and durable looking knife.
“Your choices meet my approval. Paul, I take it you heard everything and can get it all wrapped up for us.”
“Right away, Slaughter. I will just put it on the card on file, if that meets your approval,” he says as he starts grabbing the knives.
“That's fine.”
A few minutes later, loaded down with shopping bags, we exit the store. If my luck holds, this will be my last shopping trip for at least a year. I am not sure what luck I am talking about, but maybe it will hold.
We load the bags into the Continental. It looks like we will be giving Phee a ride home. “Can we get something to eat?” Phee asks.